


with me, always

by lvllns



Series: feathers and stone [5]
Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: Other, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, featuring brief appearances by ava and nat and felix, horny but make it Softe, set sometime in the future shhhh it's fine, this was supposed to just be cute and then it got away from me and now here we are
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:35:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24667708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lvllns/pseuds/lvllns
Summary: Sparrow gets a tattoo. Mason approves.
Relationships: Detective/Mason (The Wayhaven Chronicles), NB Detective/Mason (The Wayhaven Chronicles)
Series: feathers and stone [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1756300
Comments: 5
Kudos: 53





	with me, always

**Author's Note:**

> i love these two even though almost everything i write with them becomes a fucking lemon half-way through.

It isn’t until they actually get to the warehouse that Sparrow starts to wonder if maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

They had talked about it with Mason, naturally, and he seemed amused by the suggestion. Or, well, not amused but...Sparrow still isn’t sure exactly how to classify all the emotions that flickered over his face. What’s been sown between them isn’t new or fleeting, not anymore, it’s solid as bedrock and incapable of cracking. So they feel alright with this decision.

Even if, suddenly, all the time they’ve spent actually...dating? Yeah, dating Mason, now doesn’t seem nearly long enough.

Sparrow shakes their head. It’s too late now. They did it. It’s done and over with and the skin over their ribs still aches but it’s a good pain. The kind of pain they endure because it means something, something important. Not the kind of pain you suffer through when your neck —

They step into the kitchen at the warehouse and find it full. Of course. Ava and Nat are sipping tea and talking. Felix is making little paper footballs and flicking them at Mason, who is perched on the dining table in the middle of the room staring at Sparrow intently.

A little paper ball nails him right between the eyes.

Sparrow snorts.

Mason rolls his eyes. Glares at Felix, but it lacks heat and the other man just grins, wiggles his eyebrows and makes a kissy face.

The kitchen seems much, much smaller as Mason makes his way to them in only a few steps. His arms move and wrap around their shoulders. Sparrow is pulled into his chest, his lips against the crown of their head just briefly, and they thread their own arms around his waist. Press their nose into his shirt and take a deep breath. Clean, sandalwood, and mint. Not a drop of smoke which is...surprising.

His hand moves, slides down their body, and knocks against the bandage over their ribs. He freezes, body going stiff and taut. Sparrow finds themselves going just as still, hazel eyes lifting to his face and oh.

 _Oh_.

Soft, grey eyes dart over their face and they watch his lips part as he exhales slowly.

“You did it?” He sounds shocked. Surprised. In awe.

Sparrow’s heart stutter stops. Skips a few beats and picks up. Every single person in the room turns to look at them because of course they all noticed their reaction. The room has gone utterly still and silent. Even Felix stops moving, bright amber eyes darting between the two of them.

“I did,” they say, their voice quiet. The breath Mason releases is...something. Sparrow can hardly think, their mind is so cluttered. They swallow hard. “I was going to ask you to come but —”

“No, this is, it’s fine. It probably would have been too much.” His voice is wobbly, and a little higher pitched than usual. “I —”

“Wanna see?” Sparrow winks and it’s enough to cut the tension.

Mason laughs. Shakes his head and presses his nose to the top of their head again. When they look beyond the vampire clinging to them, they find Nat with an incredibly warm smile on her face. Even Ava has softened a little bit. Felix is grinning as he leans back in the chair he’s sitting in, balancing precariously on two spindly legs.

“Can all of us see?” Felix chirps.

Ava sweeps the legs of the chair out from under him and he tumbles to the ground in a very undignified tangle of limbs.

Sparrow shrugs. “I mean, yeah.” They turn to Mason. “Are you okay with that?”

He blinks at them. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“This is…” Sparrow frowns. “No, you know what? Later.” They take Mason’s hand, lace their fingers together. “You first.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.” He tries to smirk but it’s so warm, so full of emotion, that it hardly works.

They rock onto their toes and kiss his cheek. A quick wave to the rest of Unit Bravo and then they lead Mason from the kitchen. Down the halls, winding around until they get to his room. Both of them slip inside, still hand-in-hand, and the door shuts with a gentle click behind them.

Mason drops their hand, moves by them, and sits on his bed. Dark sheets against tan skin and freckles and bright eyes. Such bright eyes. “I still can’t believe you did it.”

Sparrow snorts and chews on their bottom lip for a moment. “I like having a piece of you with me,” they whisper. “I kept the note in my bag for so long Mason.”

“Why?”

“Because it was from you.”

He looks up at them and the look in his eyes...it’s hopeful. So hopeful and so full of adoration.

The moment ends as swiftly as it began when his eyes go half-lidded and his gaze drops to their side. “Show me.”

With a fond roll of their eyes, they reach down and start unbuttoning their shirt. What starts slow speeds up because they can’t take it, they need to show him. Their fingers stumble, shake a little, but they manage to get the damn thing off. It gets flung somewhere to the side. Not important.

They hiss as they pluck at the covering, the plastic wrap and bandage. It’s still a little sore, not terribly, but enough that they won’t be sleeping on their side for a couple days.

Five minutes pass between Mason asking to be shown and Sparrow standing before him, naked from the waist up. His eyes are glancing over their entire body, from their hip dermals to other tattoos, before he finally lets himself look at the newest bit of ink on their body.

Sweetheart scrawled across the ribs on their left side near their heart, in his handwriting.

He swallows hard enough that his throat audibly clicks.

“Well?” They place their hands on their hips and cock a brow. “Acceptable?”

Mason laughs, high and strangled, and it cracks a little before he looks them in the eye. “Stunning, just like the rest of you.” Their entire face heats up, blush a quickly spreading wildfire. “Come here, please,” he murmurs.

It’s the please that gets them. Sparrow moves closer, slots themselves between his spread legs and his hands rest on their waist. Thumbs smoothing over their skin in aimless circles. They slide their fingers into his hair. Wrap them around the back of his skull, just to hold him. Mason releases a shaky breath. Leans forward and presses his lips to their stomach. Their ribs. The spaces just below and above the new tattoo.

They hum gently, soothingly. His shoulders loosen, sag, and his body tips closer until his forehead is pressing against their skin.

Minutes pass. How many, Sparrow isn’t sure. They stand still between his spread thighs, scratch at his scalp, and let him soak them in. Eventually, he pulls back. Kisses the skin between their breasts, drags his mouth up to their shoulders. Scrapes teeth and tongue over their pale, freckled skin. Their grip tightens in his hair, not enough to hurt, and he huffs a breath against their throat before nipping at them.

“I want you,” he whispers against their jaw.

Sparrow shivers. Gasps as he licks down their neck to settle at the base where he starts to suck a mark. That’s going to be a bitch to cover up and he knows it and it’s perfect.

He groans into their collarbone, breath coming in uneven pants as his fingers dig into their waist. Pulls them closer so he can wrap an arm around their lower back.

“You have me,” they whisper against his temple.

Mason growls, something low and rough, and then he’s moving away from them. Which isn’t what Sparrow wants at all, and they whine loudly until they realize he’s scooting back on his bed. He chuckles, eyes blown black and a flush on his cheeks.

“Come on, sweetheart.” He pats the space on the bed next to him and then moves to pull his shirt off.

They fumble with their jeans, the button magically ratcheting up in difficulty since this morning, but they get them undone and off. They look up in time to see him wiggling out of his own jeans, hands shoving them down his long legs before he kicks them off into the room. He’s naked then, which is unfair, and Sparrow all but rips their underwear off. Flicks a leg a few times until the material finally leaves their body and hits the floor. Two options now. One, they can crawl up into his lap as seductively as possible. Two, they can mad dash scramble toward him and grab at his shoulders and try not to knock their teeth together when they kiss him.

Their teeth knock together when they kiss him.

His hands are everywhere, careful not to hit the new tattoo. Fingers curl around their hips, one hand slides down to grip their thigh and move them into a more comfortable position. One where they’re in his lap straddling him. His legs are well-muscled and Sparrow’s thighs will ache tomorrow, they know this from experience, but it’s worth it to be face-to-face with him like this. To be able to slowly draw their hands over his chest, his stomach. Trail a finger between freckles like they’re connecting dots, making constellations from the starbursts on his skin.

Mason is doing the same, tracing patterns between freckles, until he’s not and then his mouth is back at their throat and he’s breathing hard against them. Underneath their hands, his chest rises and falls erratically, shallow and quick, and Sparrow curls their fingers against his skin. One of his hands moves, slips over their neck before moving down their chest. Down their stomach. A quick detour to squeeze their hip, and then his hand is between their legs and he’s swearing under his breath.

His eyes flick to their face. “You’re so wet,” he says.

“That tends to happen around you,” they say, laughing against his neck.

Mason pinches their thigh. They yelp, leaning back to glare at him but it doesn’t work because he circles his thumb over their clit and all Sparrow manages is an uneven moan. He has nice hands, they’ve always thought his hands are nice. Long fingers, freckles. All tendons and veins. Warm, strong. Big enough to hold both of their wrists in one of his hands. They’re so distracted they don’t realize he’s leaning halfway off the bed rummaging through his side table until they both almost fall over.

Sparrow giggles, bright and clear.

“For fucks sake,” Mason growls. He picks them up, lifts them off of his lap so he can stand and actually grab a condom from the box.

They seat themselves back in his lap as soon as they can.

He lifts a brow. “This today?”

“Yes, please,” they mumble against his shoulder. “I wanna ride you.” Sparrow presses the words into his skin between sloppy kisses. “So badly.” They groan into the hollow of his throat.

“You’ll get no complaints from me, sweetheart.” He kisses their forehead. Their jaw. He nips at their shoulder, teeth scraping the skin in a way that makes them shiver.

They hum lightly until it turns into a moan when his fingers find their clit again. Fuck but his hands…

They pant against his chest. Place messy kisses all over his skin, paying close attention to his freckles. They kiss a cluster at the base of his neck, individual ones that dot his cheeks. Whichever bursts of color catch their eye, they kiss. It feels a little like worship and a lot like love, and Sparrow smiles against Mason’s throat.

One long, dexterous finger eases into their body and their hips rock. Grind against his hand. He pulls them back to the present, back from their thoughts.

“Shit,” he gasps, breath puffing over the thin skin behind their ear. “You always feel so good, fuck.”

Sparrow rolls their hips again. Moans and grips at his shoulder with one hand. The other falls between their bodies to take his cock in-hand. Mason swears under his breath, hips lifting off the bed just a little. They grin, a sharp thing, and slowly drag their hand up and down the length of him. They know how he likes to touch himself, they’ve watched more than a few times, so they twist on the downstroke. Drag their thumb over the head slowly. He bucks into their grip, bites a spot just below their collarbone hard enough that they wonder if he’s broken the skin. His breath comes in short bursts, puffs of air through his nostrils, as he holds his mouth in place for just a moment.

He shifts, moves to press messy kisses along their clavicle when he adds another finger and crooks them just so. Their entire body lights up, hand dropping away from his length to rest on his ribs, curling around to hold someone steady. Sparrow isn’t sure if it’s them or him that needs the touch.

“Oh,” they say against his chest. “Mason, please. _Please_.”

He chuckles, rough and deep, before pulling away from them. No blood on his mouth so the skin didn’t break which is probably a good thing Sparrow realizes. He twists his fingers, brushes his thumb over their clit. “Please what, sweetheart?”

That’s a question they know they should answer but his fingers feel good and their hips keep rolling against his hand and —

“Sparrow, talk to me.” His hand stills.

“‘M fine, Mason, _please_.” They look up at him and the way his eyes go wide is so satisfying. What a good look on him.

“Wanna come on my fingers?” A thrust to meet their hips. Sparrow groans. “Or my cock? Or both?” He peppers kisses from the junction where their collarbones meet their neck, up to their jaw, and they try not to think about the time he got it in his head to see how many times he could get them off in one night. “Tell me what you want Sparrow.”

They stop moving. Force the haze from their mind and take his face in their hands for a moment before he goes back to kissing their skin. “I want you, I —” They shudder when he sucks a mark on their shoulder. “Fuck, yeah, I really do want to ride you.”

He laughs but it’s soft. Light. His eyes sparkle and when he kisses them, when he catches their lips, it’s so soft they ache with it. They could do this for hours, they think. Just kiss him. Run their fingers through his hair. Trace his freckles. Drag a thumb across the bridge of his nose, his cheekbones.

Sparrow reluctantly pulls away with a wet pop. They scoot back, pluck the condom off the top of the table and tear it open with shaky hands. Their eyes flick up and they almost drop the damn thing when they find Mason licking his fingers clean.

“You do that every time and it always…” They shake their head and reach down to roll the condom on him.

He groans from deep in his chest, eyes fluttering shut at their touch. A hand lifts to settle on their waist. “It’s payback for...for every time you lick your lips after you blow me.”

Sparrow’s head thumps against his sternum and they snort. Mason’s body shakes as he laughs.

The sex is good but the laughter, the ease with which they exist together, is better, they think.

They tip their head up, smile, and say, “That’s fair,” before lining him up and slowly sinking down.

“Fucking,” he gasps. “Shit.”

“Yeah.”

Everything stops for a moment. They sit there, foreheads pressed together and breathing hard, bodies starting to get slick with sweat. Back and forth they trade lazy kisses, tongues slicking together and teeth nipping at lips. Eventually, Sparrow lifts their hips, far enough that Mason almost slips out but they roll back down before that happens. One of his hands travels down their spine, the barest of touches until he reaches down and grabs their ass. They rock against him a little quicker, pace picking up until he’s thrusting up to meet them as best he can.

Sparrow pants against his neck. “You feel so good,” they say into his skin. They don’t even know if he heard them.

Well, except he absolutely did because he’s a vampire.

A very smug vampire who’s pressing a very smug smile into the front of their shoulder.

He opens his mouth to say something but the only thing that comes out is a very high pitched, garbled moan because Sparrow drops down on him quick and hard. Grey eyes narrow and he grabs their waist. Holds them still. Barely flexes his hips to rock into them.

The teasing bastard.

Before they can complain about it, he releases his grip. Curls an arm around their neck and presses filthy kisses to their lips as they start riding him again. He doesn’t stop touching them. Keeps one hand just below the new tattoo, the other wandering over every inch of their body. He thrusts up into them, rolls his hips, and closes his eyes against every single sensation fighting for his attention except the feeling of Sparrow around him.

Eventually they’re both just breathing against each other’s mouth. Too close. Too bright. It’s too much to concentrate on actually kissing, far easier to just exist in the small space together, passing air back and forth.

Sparrow’s rhythm falters.

Mason drops a hand between them and, “Come on sweetheart,” he purrs against the sweat-slick skin of their throat. “You’re so close I can feel it. Fuck.” He jerks his hips up hard enough that Sparrow moans loud. “Sparrow, songbird, come on.”

Distantly, so distantly, they recognize that nickname as one he so very rarely uses but it’s always in place of —

And then they’re coming hard enough to see stars. They cling to him, blunt nails digging into his back as they groan his name against his chest. Lips on their hairline, near their temple, whispers of words. Soothing and gentle and Mason fucks them through their climax as expertly as always.

Panting against his throat, they keep rolling their hips. He tastes like sweat, all salt and water in their mouth as they bite at his neck. He’s close. They can tell by the way his hands spasm, flexing and grabbing and holding whatever part of them is nearest. Grounding himself. Like he’s liable to shred to pieces, to float away through the air if he isn’t attached to them somehow. A growl rips through him, something rough and deep.

And then he’s moaning their name into their shoulder as he comes, fingers like vices on their waist. There’s going to be bruises and they don’t bother trying to suppress the shudder. The movement wrenches a broken gasp from Mason and it’s the most delicious thing Sparrow has ever heard.

They slump against him, arms loosely winding around his neck. He stops moving, hips going still on the bed as his chest heaves against them. Sparrow touches their foreheads together and hums. They kiss him, soft and sweet. Soothing. He’s shaking a little, they realize. Eyes still closed, hands trembling where he’s touching their body. They kiss him until the shuddering stops, until Mason sighs, a heavy thing, and kisses them breathless like it’s the easiest thing in the world for him to do.

Maybe it is.

Fingers drag up and down their spine, blunt nails tracing patterns on their skin. Sparrow shifts a little bit, goes to move off of him, but he wraps his arms around their back.

“Stay. Just...stay,” he mumbles, breath hot against their mouth.

Sparrow dips their head. Tucks their nose up against his neck and drops all their weight on him. Mason huffs, more amused than anything. His thumbs smooth across their body, dragging over parts of old scars briefly. The touching is nice, grounding. Definitely appreciated after how...intense that was. They lift a hand, slowly as molasses flows in the winter. Place it on his face and tap their fingers over his freckles. His eyes are closed now but a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

They think about kissing that little lifted corner and then they do. Because they can.

Eventually his breathing slows down, the muscles in his arms go loose. Mason yawns, jaw cracking.

He pats their thigh affectionately. “Up and off, songbird.”

“Oh now you want me to move,” they say playfully.

Mason lifts one dark brow and Sparrow sticks their tongue out as they slide off his lap onto his bed. They land on their back, hazel eyes soft and half-lidded. He reaches over to push the hair from their face, fingers lingering along their jaw.

“Wanna shower?” He asks as he stands, tying off the condom and tossing it.

“You always have the best ideas.” Sparrow watches him. Watches the long lines of his body, the muscles shifting and bunching as he moves around his room.

He pauses to look at them over his shoulder. “Remember you said that the next time I suggest something outrageous.”

Sparrow climbs to their feet, knees still a little weak, and they laugh. A few steps and they’re right in front of him and it’s so easy to lean forward. To press their lips to his softly, sweetly. He moans against their mouth, tongue licking along their bottom lip, but they pull away before it heats any more.

One final kiss to his cheek before they head to his bathroom. “Come on sunshine, before I use all the hot water.”

Mason’s laugh is quiet as he follows them into the room and shuts the door behind him with a soft click.


End file.
